Eve Rhony's Tales of a Lusty Lass July 13, 2011, column. To read more visit her at http://everhony.wordpress.com for her "Tales of a Lusty Lass" erotic blog.

Julie laughed at Clare’s story, "I sometimes think that all women have to do is get naked and men will give them everything. It’s men who are slaves."

"Actually I’d have to agree" Georgie ventured. There were a few looks of surprise from around the group. Georgie was forty-three and worked for the local government, a different department from Alison but in the same building. She knew Deb from the village. She was a divorcee. The combined assets of the marriage, once split, afforded her a two-bedroom cottage in the beautiful North Devon countryside. She had left London for the peaceful surroundings of Dartmoor. She had cut her hair and begun to paint. The second bedroom served well as a studio. Georgie had always been pragmatic, steady, clean living. Her Mother had told her the facts of life with an expression of disgust on her face, like she’d just sucked on a lemon.

Whilst Georgie had soon realized that her Mother’s version of sex was far removed from the glorious reality, she had never been able to quite shake off — a certain uptightness — when it came to sex. She claimed to have never used fantasy before, "I never succumbed to fantasy" were actually her words. Suc-cum-bed – I liked that word. What had prevented her was guilt she said. However, there was an occasion she began, when she had first-hand experience of the power women can, sometimes unwittingly, wield over men when it comes to sex.

"It all took place when I was still living and working in London. I was waiting for the divorce to go through and the financial side to be sorted. I was at a crossroads and sick of looking back. I had made plans for the future and knew that within the next year I would be completely uprooting and starting again, alone. For the first time in ages I felt adventurous, intrepid."

So began Georgie’s story….

Mark was eighteen and extremely fit looking. He’d joined the company for the summer months as a temp and would be leaving for university in the September. I fancied him the moment I saw him but being forty; I dispelled any real chance of getting my hands on his taut buns and tried to put him out of my mind.

Anyway, the weeks and months went by and Mark’s departure loomed. He was a nice lad, good for a laugh. We’d shared lots of giggles and office banter, I could tell he liked me. I relaxed around him and became more open. I had almost forgotten my earlier lust. On his final day it had been agreed that a few of us would go for a pint after work to say goodbye.

That Friday was a particularly sultry day and my tight skirt was sticking to every crevice. Mark’s presence in the office did nothing to lower my temperature and frequent trips to the fan were needed. As I held open the front of my shirt and leaned over the cold blast of air I looked toward where Mark sat. He was staring at me with a half smile on his lips. His tongue tipped out to lick a bead of sweat from under his nose and we grinned at each other. As I walked back to my desk I swore I could feel his eyes all over me. Surely, this was false hope; the heat was addling my brain!

My desk was in the corner of the office, my back to the wall, I faced out toward my colleagues. I sat back in my chair and glanced at the paperwork before me. Christ it was hot, my thighs were stuck to the chair, and I could feel tiny rivulets of sweat running down my back and throat. I ran my fingers against the slippery skin of my neck and chest, reaching down into my soaked cleavage. My fingers glided across the top of my breast, under my shirt. Unconsciously, my little finger searched for the nipple, soft in the heat. The relative coolness of my fingertip launched the teat into life, forming a hard bud of tingly flesh. As my right nipple woke up so did I! What was I doing? I was miles away. I looked around to see if anyone had seen me.

Mark’s gaze met mine as I scanned the room. He was beaming and licking his lips. Oh my God! He’d seen everything. Blushing, I smiled and shrugged, fanning myself with the same hand as if to say the heat was responsible for my feeling myself up!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Mark must have had too much sun in the lunch hour. However, this was what I had wanted when I first saw him. It was his last day and therefore, my last chance. Clearly, the heat was getting us all randy. I decided I would give him something to remember me by.

Smiling across the office at the object of my renewed lust, I pulled my chair up tight against the desk. My right hand took up a pen and looked to make notes. My left hand slipped under the desk, tugged up my skirt and came to rest between my sticky thighs. I had to part my legs a fair distance as the skin had stuck to itself. I slumped down in the chair, easing my buttocks forward to the edge of the seat and stretched out my legs. I could tell by the lascivious expression on Mark’s face that he could see everything. A quick glance around the room ensured no uninvited onlookers. With my left hand I pulled the hem up to my hips exposing my crotch. I could feel how wet I was and remembering my pink knickers, knew Mark would be able to see a dark patch where my sweat and juices had stained my crotch.

Wasting no time, I pulled aside the damp gusset and spread my labia. The skin was silky with fluid and my fingers flicked and flitted rapidly, to and fro over the surface of my clitoris and inner lips. Mark briefly looked about him, he nodded encouragement and licked his lips, his glistening eyes returned to between my legs. His randy expression urged me on and I began frigging myself off in earnest. I was conscious that my upper arm was jiggling up and down but was so close to coming now that I hardly cared. Feeling my climax approach, my legs tautened and stretched further apart, my back arched slightly in the chair, my right hand dropped the pen and gripped the desk. The orgasm was sweetly intense, if restrained. Still looking at Mark and knowing he had a huge hard-on, I brought my fingertips up to my mouth and slowly licked the sticky juices. He flopped forward on his desk, feigning heat exhaustion.

I felt incredibly powerful and sexual for the rest of the afternoon and several times congratulated myself on being such a saucy bugger.

After work, in the pub garden Mark came up to me.

"Georgie, that was some show you gave me this afternoon and I thoroughly enjoyed it but I was wondering — whether you’d consider giving a second performance — only this time with a little audience participation?"

Buoyed up by my earlier brazen self, I didn’t hesitate to reply.

"I was planning to ask you the same".

As I only lived round the corner I gave him my address, said my goodbyes and hurried home. Quickly I made the bed, peeled off my sweaty clothes and jumped in the shower.

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell went. Mark grabbed me in the hallway, threw aside the towel and ran his hands down my wet, slippery body.

"Not yet" I said, I had decided to continue the power theme and take control of this situation. "Come with me". I led him upstairs and showed him where to shower.

Meanwhile I tied four silky black stockings to the bedposts. Mark emerged, his hair damp and tousled, he looked sexier than ever. I’d only imagined how fit his body would be and he exceeded all expectations. He was bronze and lean, muscular, a swimmer’s body, broad shoulders, slim hips, long legs and a very respectable erect, gleaming cock.

Smiling at his hard-on I asked him to lie on the bed and stretch out his arms and legs. Mark hesitated. "Have you ever been tied up before?" I asked.

Mark shook his head. I kissed him then, reassuringly.

"May I continue?" I asked, as I tightened the nylon around his wrist.

"Yes," he succumbed.

In silence I began to fasten his ankles and other wrist to the bed. As he watched my naked body working the nylon tethers his erection grew. By the time he was trussed his dick stood veined and throbbing. I stared at his beautiful body, stretched and taut across the bed. Mark was blushing but his eyes were alight with desire as he watched me walk the length of the bed. Slowly I straddled his chest, my minge inches from his chin. Mark stared at my neatly trimmed puss as I squidged vaginal juice over his golden chest hairs. As he began to groan with lust I edged up toward his mouth. Raising myself up on my knees I fingered my hole in front of his eyes, well he’d wanted a second viewing.

Scooping fingers of pussy juice in my hands I stuck fingers in his mouth and smeared his lips with my silk. When his tongue poked out for more I lowered my clit onto it and rubbed up against his teeth, lips and nose. Mark was gobbling and slurping as my juices poured into his mouth. I turned my body around to face his feet. Jerking my minge on his face I reached down to play with his knob. Pre-cum already glistened on the tip. I spread this around his helmet, caressing and pumping his bell-end. Sliding one hand up and down his pulsating cock, the other felt under his sack and pulled gently on his tight balls.

Now my crack was rubbing against Mark’s chest and I knew he had a bird’s eye view of my spread arse. I crawled down and clamped my lips over his bouncing cock. Mark gasped and I tasted more pre-cum. I sheathed him efficiently then and could feel the arousal mounting in him as he squirmed to touch and taste me.

As I skewered myself on that delicious stiffy, Mark groaned his gratitude. Slowly at first I began to pump up and down. Gaining speed and intensity, I pushed my clit against his pubic bone. Mark’s hands were made into fists; his chest was swollen with excitement, his thighs, when I reached down to stroke them, were rock hard. "I’m gonna come" he gasped.

I urged him closer.

"Good, give it to me, I’m coming too".

I pounded above him allowing my breasts to brush against his face and mouth. My nipples hard and swollen searched blindly for his lips. His teeth clamped on to suckle and gnaw my tits. I felt my womb contract in the first of many electric waves of pure pleasure. Reaching my own climax I started to moan and grabbed the headboard bearing down on him for all I was worth. Mark shouted out as he came, pulling against the restraints as he arched and pumped his load inside that dripping puss. I looked down at him, shuddering and twitching beneath me.

As I was untying him he shyly mentioned how this had been his first time. I flapped the stockings in the air laughing.

"Well, now you know how" I smiled.

"No - you don’t get it" he said looking serious.

"First time" he repeated, emphasizing each of the words.

He added, "I always fantasized that my first time would be at the hands of an older, experienced seductress". "Handy" was all I could say as I took in the implication of what he was saying. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. So I had de-flowered Mark, a man young enough to be my son, on the eve of his university career. I felt suitably proud, almost maternal, if that wasn’t too perverse?

To read more from Eve visit me at http://everhony.wordpress.com Tales of a Lusty Lass

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